There are shocker eliminations on American Idol every season. Viewers and fans decry the fact that their favourite was voted off - especially since there are much worse contestants. With that said, last night saw a shocker elimination that no one saw coming... (which is why it was a shocker in the first place, right?)... and one of the show's favourites was sent home with no warning and without ever having been in the bottom three before. Who was it? Click here to find out.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

When you write for the newspaper and your photo appears alongside your column, you tend to get recognized in public from time to time. Now that I'm also spreading my wings to include blogging, Facebook and radio, it's happening more and more. I would be lying if I said I didn't like the public attention, especially when there are friends around to witness it. Good for the ego, don't you know.

For some reason, I tend to get recognized quite often at church. I would assume that most of the parishioners are subscribers to the newspaper or at least buy it from time to time. In my fantasies, they only buy Wednesday's paper to read Hump Day. In imaginary Brianland, each column is cut out, laminated and placed lovingly on their wall as a monument to my wonderful talent.

This past Sunday, as I was walking down the aisle at church after mass had ended, a man came up to me to ask if I was "the guy" who wrote for the newspaper.

I sighed. Woe is me! I can't even go to church anymore without being tackled and pawed upon by fans as I attempt to live my life as a mere mortal. I thought, "Oh here we go again. Someone wants me to lay hands upon them to heal their illness and allow them to throw away their crutches." Writing a column can raise expectations among readers.

As I lowered my head in mock humility and prepared to be adored by yet another loving follower enraptured with my brilliance, the man started to explain a mix-up during communion in order to avoid having another column being written on the subject. Apparently, I'd once written a column on how I'd arrived at the front of the church for communion only to find that they'd run out of hosts, leaving me communion-less and, therefore, unwashed for the rest of the week.

I cocked my head sideways like a dog does when he doesn't know what you're trying to tell him. "Huh? I've never written a column on that before."

The man appeared confused. He claimed to read my column faithfully and went on to tell me how good I was. Having written well over 100 columns so far, I found myself wracking my brain for a week when I'd written about communion, but I just couldn't remember it.

I was about to humour him by simply thanking him for everything and wishing him a good day, when he asked, "Aren't you Brent Mazerolle?"

I put away my healing ointments. The two large men waiting to catch him after I would have screamed "Heal!" (and then whacked him in the forehead, knocking him backwards) were asked to leave. There would be no healing today. There would be no miraculous removal of excess ear wax. No supernatural polishing of his bunions. No turning his favourite orange pekoe tea into a much-needed liquid laxative. No, he'd committed the gravest sin a fan could commit: he thought I was someone else.

Now, don't get me wrong. Brent Mazerolle is a perfectly fine fellow. We write for the same newspaper. We grew up in the same neighbourhood and he's married to a childhood friend of mine. In fact, I once worked with his brother, so we're practically quasi-civil distant acquaintances. Despite being so much better looking than him (emphasis on "so" and "much"), I can understand how people would mix us up, considering we both write columns that are usually based on things going on in our lives.

I guess I should count myself fortunate that at least I wasn't mistaken for someone that would send me into the throes of depression. "Didn't I recently see you swinging from a church tower with some chick named Esmerelda under your arm?"

Once, when I was having a meal in a restaurant with friends, someone came to the table and introduced themselves, telling me how much they liked my column. Of course I was flattered and genuinely thankful for the positive feedback, but what I was most happy about was that it happened in front of friends. "Yesssssssss," I thought. "Now they'll all think I'm this big celebrity who can't go anywhere in public without having people wanting me to kiss their babies and tattoo my autograph across their foreheads."

Ladies and gentlemen, the ego has landed.

Thankfully I don't live in a community where there are celebrity photographers everywhere trying to catch me in embarrassing moments, like when I'm buying my weekly case of XXXL condoms (waits for lightning bolt from the sky. . .) or buying new shoes after constantly having the toes on mine worn out from people dropping to the ground and kissing my feet.

Yes, folks, it's quite evident to me and everyone else around that my ego is getting out of control. It seems like I'm in dire need of something to bring me back down to earth . . . like some nasty scandal or something. Maybe the authorities will discover that I tore the tags off my new pillows. Or maybe they'll find out that I taped the last Toronto Blue Jays game without the expressed written consent of Major League Baseball.

I would be relegated to walking around town wearing a big hat and a dark coat. It would be terrible. I would be forced to lead a life of crime, like shoplifting birdseed to survive and slapping police officers across the face to tempt them into shooting me so as to put me out of my misery. And in my dying breath, I'd whisper hoarsely, "Send the bill for the funeral to my estate. Brent Mazerolle . . . I'm in the book."

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Last night, the remaining eight American Idol contestants were inspired by inspiration, so to speak. With this season's second annual Idol Gives Back telethon for charity taking place tonight, contestants were asked to sing inspirational songs. A couple of contestants who'd been climbing the ladder again didn't do very well. One who'd faltered a bit recently made a great comeback and has fans buzzing with a unique take on an old favourite. One who seems unstoppable remains unstoppable. And one who everyone thought was a shoo-in for getting kicked off the show this week actually did really... really... really well! So who's off? We won't know until Thursday night at 9 p.m. on Fox. Tonight is the Idol Gives Back telethon, so the results show will only be on tomorrow night. In the meantime, click here to read my review of last night's show and check back here on Friday for the next column. There will be no column tomorrow because of tonight's telethon.

Hi everyone! Just wanted to remind you that this week's Hump Day column appears on th editorial page of today's Moncton Times & Transcript (pg. D6). This week's piece is about getting recognized in public and how it flatters one's ego... except when someone comes up to you and thinks your someone else. Check it out by picking up your copy of the paper or by checking back here tomorrow, when it will be posted online.

Monday, April 07, 2008

So I spent all friggin' evening re-doing my vlog intro and extro. I recorded a new entry... worked on putting everything together for hours... then YouTube decides to do MAINTENANCE while I'm uploading it.

I'm SO not impressed.

So looks like my vlog for April 7 is only going to be posted on April 8.

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Walt Forsey, who's always surprising me with really great video contributions to my blog, sent this is in today. Ironically, I also saw a pheasant in the park across from the street from me yesterday morning. I think it's only the second or third time that I've seen one there. They must have been out and about all over Greater Moncton yesterday! Thanks again, Walt! Always appreciated.

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About Me

Writer, columnist and communications consultant. Author of "Hump Day" - a weekly humour/general interest column, and Social Media Matters, a column dealing with social media. Member of the Professional Writers Association of Canada (PWAC), National Society of Newspaper Columnists, Canadian Association of Journalists.